Silver & Gold
by Undead Prowess
Summary: Yours truly, Sprocket's, history is here. Just as I promised ya guys. Spin-off of Darkest Hour, can be read without reading the trilogy.


_**Silver & Gold**_

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><p><em><strong>Welded Together<strong>_

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><p>Sprocket tossed off the dress and glared at it with as much spite as she could. Her flame-red hair was a mess and she was basically nude except for underwear and a training bra. She continued to glare at the dress, blaming it for her mother's antics. She did not like dresses, especially this one. She had thrown it on her messy bed. It was bright pink and white, and had more frills on it than Skylands had clouds. She huffed and made her way across her room (which had various toy tools strewn across it) and wrenched open her closet door (which was in desperate need of fixing, she noticed, by the squeaky hinges) and thumbed through her shirts and jeans.<p>

She was satisfied when she found a stained, old, brick-red T-shirt and torn jeans. She pulled them from the small closet and shut the glossy white door. She set the clothes down on the bed a lot gentler than she had the dress and began putting them on. They felt a lot more comfortable than the itchy and frilly dress. She smiled and looked through the corners of her eyes at the window. Her mother could do without her for a day or two. She had an uncle to see and things to fix.

She crept over to the window. She heard her mother bang on something with her fist lightly. "Sprocket! Come out here when you're done, okay?"

Sprocket quit moving altogether, with her left leg cocked out the window and her other leg still inside. "Okay, mother!" She called back. With that, she quickly escaped and shut the window behind her. She mischievously grinned at the closed window and the walls it contrasted against. Her home was a large one, a mansion of fine jewelry and decoration. Its outside was painted in a sleek, shimmering, pale golden. Their yard was entirely green, blindingly so in the morning sun. She snorted and took off, running through that thick, bright, springy grass. Straight to the neighbor's mansion, except she bolted behind it. She knew these streets like the back of her hand. This was the richer neighborhood. If she passed it and went down a couple of avenues, she'd get towards the more rundown places. Here, the grasses were so grotesquely fake green it made her feel sick. The polished, expensive, but slow cars irritated her to no end. They were never used for their potential.

If something was broken, it was not fixed. It was thrown away and replaced. A shirt covered everything just as nicely as a dress could, what was the point in wasting so much money on something that sparkles and poofs out ten feet? She laughed as she continued running down the back roads. If there was one thing in this neighborhood that wasn't taken care of, it would be the back roads. They were nothing but dirt, and made for the "riff-raff" that passed through the neighborhood that would be unsightly on the main road, as her mother had said many times before.

Sprocket grinned. Oh, they were riff-raff, alright, but her mother simply didn't see the excitement in it. These riff-raffs brought fun at night, when they brought out their speedy, expensive cars that they actually used for their correct purpose, and would race till the break of dawn. Bets were placed, sometimes there were fights. Fourteen-year-old Sprocket couldn't bet, but she had sure been in her fair amount of fights. Ha, if you think that's young, then you've obviously never been in the Golding Countries before. Grinning, she stopped as she neared the end of the stretch of back roads. Here they would break off and lead to the main roads. Nobody would dare to race in broad daylight. She loped down the side of the road, hands in her pockets.

There were good things to this place. There was a fatal crime rate of practically zero, with very few heinous acts every committed in its entire history. So she wasn't bothered, walking down the side of the road. A few cars zipped by. She wasn't fazed until one slowed to approach her. At least, until she recognized the black and orange, aerodynamic, sleek 10046 Ferral. She grinned and backed away to give the car room to get close and for its driver to step out.

Bailey was a tall, dark-haired golding. He had smudges of oil on his dull overalls and faded green shirt underneath. He grinned at her. "Need a lift? I don't think little girls should be walkin' all around on their own, missy," he ruffled her hair and chuckled. Gods above, it was always so annoying whenever he teased her, but she secretly loved it as well. Her parents never played or joked around with her. Her home life was bland compared to the life and reputation she had built away from her home.

Sprocket puffed her cheeks out at him in mock annoyance. "Do I? I'll only say yes because it's much faster," she laughed as she walked to the passenger door and expertly pulled it open. The door lifted up instead of swinging out sideways. She just giggled. She loved this car.

Bailey loped around to the driver's door and lifted the door expertly. He flopped inside the driver's seat and brought the door back down. Sprocket pulled her door down as well, admiring the leather interior of the car. It was all so beautiful.

Bailey noticed her admiring the car. "For an old one, it's sure pretty, ain't it?" He patted her shoulder and started the car. Its engined roared to life, and he made a blatant u-turn to turn in the other direction. She snorted at his antics. "So where are we goin' today, missy? To Grease's, I'm sure," he laughed. His laugh was infectious and she giggled, too.

"Yes," she answered, "he wanted me to come and help him with some new project and to help clean up. Y'think a guy like him would learn some scrap metal can't be salvaged. But nope, he's convinced every single bit of it has used and will be used one day, despite it all bein' stacked to the ceilin'. It's a wonder he gets any work done around there at all!"

Bailey laughed alongside her statement. "I know, I've been inside. That old man talks to the scrap metal like it'll tell him when it needs to be used!"

The rest of the car ride carried on like that, talking endearingly about Sprocket's less-than-favorable uncle. Her parents had already made it clear they despised him and had even told her to stay away from him. Sprocket couldn't understand why. He was so quirky and she loved him. He didn't try to force her into being different. His name, 'Grease', had come from him always having grease and oil stains on him as a child, her father had said. He had once been called Muffler, but had adopted the name Grease after his brother (her father) had begun to tease him about it.

Unlike her own, Grease's house was small and seemed insignificant. It was dirty and relatively uncared for on the outside. The grass sprang up lavishly, unattended and wild. The tiny front yard was a danger zone that couldn't be crossed due to the miniature jungle that was blooming there. She thanked Bailey for the ride, and hopped out of the expensive, yet old car. She headed up the driveway, the loose gravel making crunching noises as she arrived to the backyard gate. Grease's car was old, and was smudged with oil and grease from Grease touching it and maneuvering it. Again, he didn't bother to clean much and so the car stayed in its condition.

Sprocket rounded the corner into the backyard and happily marched to her uncle's workshop. He had only bothered to cut the grass in two paths, coming from his back door of the house and from the fence's gate. The rest of the backyard was filled with grass tall enough to tickle her nose. She giggled and bolted to the workshop door.

She heard sounds of clanging metal inside and grinned as she opened the door. Piles and piles and stacks upon stacks of old scrap metal, beams of wood, and other supplies were reaching the ceiling of the workshop. Tools were strewn about in the center of the workshop, which was semi-clear of debris. Sprocket picked her way to the clearing and tackle-hugged her uncle once she finally got to him. He dropped the piece of metal he looked like he was trying to examine and turned his head sideways to smile at her.

"I see ya made it. I know my brother won't be happy about ya sneakin' out."

"He never is," Sprocket snickered their usual greeting. "So, what is it we gotta do today?"

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><p>This was how every meeting with my uncle went. Usually smooth and easygoing with me always returning to my parents madder than hell. But I don't regret a single one of those days. This is my, Sprocket's, story. You up for the ride?<p>

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><p><strong>This one will be shorter to fit more of Sprocket's style. That and I feel bad for not updating anything in forever. XD Hope you guys enjoy this, and look out for Feu's next chapter in the upcoming week!<strong>

**Also, NaNoWriMo has begun! Anyone else participating this year?**


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